


Taking him to Hand

by Floris_Oren



Category: White Collar
Genre: Bondage, Forced Feeding, Handcuffs, It's not but whatever, M/M, Peter gets hurt and Neal thinks it's his fault, Punishment, Spanking, This is not how the FBI works, everything that happens here would NEVER happen in RL, this is simply a fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-07
Updated: 2015-11-07
Packaged: 2018-04-30 12:24:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5163737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Floris_Oren/pseuds/Floris_Oren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Peter gets hurt in an operation gone wrong, Neal takes it hard. It's up to Hughes to set Neal straight and take care of him while Peter is taken to the Hospital.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Taking him to Hand

**Author's Note:**

> I read all the Fic's with this pairing and wanted more. So here I am with more. :) I don't know why we only have spanking with this pairing. But, whatever. I tried to make this different. I also used the Hemmingway editor with this one, a bit. Some of it didn't quite work the way the editor wanted. So I left some of the harder to read sentences.

Neal glared when Peter cuffs him to a bar in the van. That is nothing considering what happened next. No one could have foreseen the suspect panicking and shooting Peter. Sure. It's a through and through, nothing much to worry about. But Neal had been yelling and trying to slip the far too tight cuffs, making the skin break and bleed. Peter is carted away by the EMT's while Jones held Neal back. Promising that everything was going to be okay. 

That's when Reese came onto the scene, he grabbed Neal by the neck, told Jones and Diana to go home and get some rest. Then he dragged the CI to his car. Threw him into the back and threatened to skin him alive if he so much as tried to open the door without his say so. 

Neal's eyes are wide, teary and he subsides. He draws the safety belt around him and doesn't say a word on the drive to Reese's home. It sits in a dark cul-di-sac well out of Neal's radius. Neal doesn't say anything, Reese made sure it was okay with the Marshal's. Or he wouldn't be here. Reese gets out of the car, Neal undoes the belt but waits for Reese to open the door for him. He gets out when the older man beckon's to him with the two fingered sigal he uses at the office. 

Neal follows him into the house. The car beeps once, indicating it is locked. Reese pushes Neal over the threshold when the Conman hesitated. Neal tugs his suit jacket off. The cuffs of his white shirt is stained a light pink from where the blood seeped from his wounds. 

"Come on." Reese indicated the stairs. 

"Why....?" Neal started up them, but stopped. A swift swipe of hand to ass has him hopping up the rest in a hurry. "That hurt." 

"It's supposed to get your attention." Reese replied.   
"Now, I am going to bandage up those wrists and then I'm going to spank you." he explained. 

"Spank me? is the a FBI sanctioned punishment?" Neal sassed. He got another spank to his ass. He tried not to yelp but a bit of sound made it past his lips. Reese smirked, amused. 

"It is now. And do you know why I'm punishing you?" he asked. 

"I didn't solve the case, I didn't tell Peter soon enough." Neal sighed in defeat. He hated for anyone to see him like this, but, he is just too tired to keep up his Smooth Criminal Act. 

"It's not your fault." Reese said. He directs Neal to sit on the toilet. "How were you supposed a criminal who so far had been non-violent was going to pull a gun then?" he asked. 

"How did you even know?" Neal shook his head even as he sat still for his wounds to be doctored. 

"Because I do, now come on, food." 

"I'm not hungry." Neal said, his voice soft, little. 

"I'll tie you to the chair and feed you by hand if I have to." Reese took him by the elbow. He dragged Neal to the kitchen where he proceeded to do just that. Neal yelped. His upper arms and forearms are then tied to the chair with several winter scarfs that are thin enough to keep him in place. 

Reese ignores him while he makes a simple meal, crackers, cheese and summer sausage with some milk. Neal eats only because he does not want to anger Reese. He isn't sure what the man has in store for him but if the swats from earlier are a clue, he's got a pretty good idea. 

They're done a half hour later; Reese frees him from the chair and escorts him back upstairs, this time to the bedroom. "Strip." Neal ducks his head but tries to undo the buttons on his shirt. His hands shake hard and he's having a terrible time trying to still them. 

Reese comes over to help. His hands are gentle but insistent. Neal finally gives up. He just can't. So Reese divests Neal of his clothing. He takes the suite and puts it in his closet. Neal stands in the middle of the room, chilled and he feels tears at the brim of his eyes. 

"Come here, Boy." Reese says. Neal goes. Reese sits on the bed, he pats his knee. "Sit." Neal does. He feels enveloped when Reese wraps his arms around him. He couldn't escape even if he tried. Right now. Neal doesn't want to try. He's tired. 

"Do you feel guilty, about Peter?" Reese asked. 

"You want me to say no, because it wasn't my fault, but I still feel like it is." Neal replied. 

"I'll have to beat some sense into you, it seems." Reese replied. 

"No!" Neal shook his hand. Reese is already pushing him to his feet. He then draping him over so that Neal's butt is in the perfect spot on the older man's knees. 

"Sssshhh...just take it." Reese instructed. He patted Neal's naked ass. Fondly. Neal took a deep breath and nodded his head. He didn't want to escape. He buries his head in his arms and waits for the first strike. He had to wait a few moments as Reese caressed him. Neal relaxed into the touch, and that's when Reese struck. The first five are delivered in a flurry. Neal growls, he doesn't want to scream or cry. He wants to take it and be done with it. 

But....Reese has other plans. 

He starts out slow, delivering five or six then calming Neal, then doing another set. Neal grits his teeth and does his best to not squirm too much. He didn't know when it'd stop and he definitely didn't want to bring more by disobeying Reese. But it was hard to keep quiet and still. Each set sapped more and more of his self control which he didn't have much in the first place. The urge to cry came to the forefront. Neal denied himself. 

"Neal?" 

"Is it over?" his voice is gruff. 

"Is it your fault?" Reese asked. 

"I...." 

SLAP. 

"Is it your fault?" 

"No...?" 

SLAP. 

"OKAYOKAY!!!PLEASE....!!!"

"Neal!" Reese barked. "It's not a question. Now. Is it your fault?" the promise in Hughes voice makes Neal's next words very hard to say. Because it was a lie, but it was a truth to Hughes. Neal seriously didn't understand. They wanted him to tell the truth. Both Peter and Hughes, but it was. It was all his fault. 

"It's not my fault." he's full out sobbing now. 

"Good. Now be as still as you can." Reese said. Inwardly he isn't certain if Neal is lying to make the punishment stop. He had so far kept the spanking to the two round globes, his hand moved down to the thighs next and a quick set of seven is placed onto the skin. The contrast before the deep red and the start of pink is nice to watch. Neal is twitching with each slap. His grunts become more profound. Hughes hand switches to Neal's, so far, untouched thigh. He gifts it with ten slaps and switches to the other in order to make the shade of pink match. 

"Please! I'm sorry! it's not my fault....notmyfault...notfault...." 

Hughes stopped, helped Neal up off his lap and sat him on the bed. Neal keens in pain and falls onto his side and off his ass. Hughes chuckles slightly. 

"I suppose you've had enough?" 

"Yes, please." Neal's voice is rough. 

"Okay. I'm going to get you something to sleep in, want a shower?" 

Neal shook his head. "I'll be right back." Hughes patted Neal's thigh. The younger man grunted. Hughes left him long enough to bring back a pair of sleep pants and a large t-shirt with the FBI logo on it. It'd been used to paint in and was on the ratty side. Neal rather liked it but just grunted his thanks. 

Hughes watched as Neal changed from what was left of his suite and into the clothing. Then he pulled back the covers and had Neal crawl in. Hughes shucked his pants and shirt and joined Neal. 

"What is this?" Neal asked. 

"I'm not going to leave you alone after that, now come here." Hughes ordered. Neal, always one for touch even if he never admitted it, settled into Hughes' arms. Tired. He huffed a large breath through his nose as the lights went off. 

"Go to sleep." Hughes whispers into the darkness. 

"Okay." and he did. 


End file.
